


Personalities Within

by keirajo



Series: The Love of Romance [13]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, M/M, Romance, Thriller, Virus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-01 01:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: The Lost Light takes some shore leave and comes back...………….with a virus debilitating nearly all the crew a few days later.   With four sane individuals left, it's up to them to come up with a plan to cure the virus and get things back to normal.Well, whatever's normal for the Lost Light anyways!





	1. Virus Detected

**Author's Note:**

> One of my WIPs I got back, when the computer place gave me my 1TB drive with my old laptop's hard drive yesterday. This was halfway done with the first chapter--while I was without a computer or my WIPs, I finished this in my notebook. Now I just need to get it all typed up. :)

_“How did we ever get into **this** mess?” Rodimus groaned, leaning into the wall of the isolation room in the medi-bay._

_ “We went on some damned shore leave, that’s how,” Ratchet grunted, folding his arms over his chest and stared at the door of the isolation room. He glanced around—there were limited tools for him to work with in here to try and fix the mess with the few vials of trial anti-viral strains in them. Now would be the time to see just how much medical use Rodimus could be……..!_

** _ Personalities Within _ **

_ Chapter One: Virus Detected _

The planet of Zetter was a fairly nice planet overall—even if it were a bit too organic for Megatron’s tastes. It was similar to the space mall they had gone to some time back, except for the fact that this planet had most all of its shops in outdoor areas. There were a few buildings containing shops where they might be selling weather sensitive or temperature sensitive wares, but mostly the shops were in tents and open to the breezes and the pedestrians.

For the most part, _everyone_—except for perhaps Megatron—actually _enjoyed_ it. Megatron still was having issues with his phobias of organics that he couldn’t seem to get beyond yet. It was interesting to note that even the Decepticons now on their crew were enjoying the quaint little shopping adventure. And…….not that he had anywhere to put such a thing on the ship, Crankcase was admiring (_and trying to buy!_) an old speeder starcraft that looked a lot more junky than actually salvageable—just as an example of things.

“Here, Megs…………I want **_this_** one,” Rodimus said, excitedly, grabbing his older lover’s arm and pointed to a halved rock that had the interior display face polished and laminated. It had very colorful veins and strata in it. To the organics running the shop in the market here, the rock was nearly as big as a small dog from Earth, but it fit in Rodimus’ palm perfectly.

Megatron glanced down at the rock, curiously, and rubbed a servo along his younger lover’s backstrut. “Just what is your fascination with rocks anyways, Rodimus?” The grey-colored mech asked with a soft sigh as he tried to appraise what could possibly be appealing about _a rock_. Having spent his early online decades doing nothing but mining rocks and crystals and the like—he found nothing particularly interesting about them at all.

“They’re _enduring_, when so few things are in this universe,” the flame-colored mech responded, looking back at his lover with a big grin.

Megatron smiled softly. In a way, he supposed, he could understand something like that. For Rodimus, whose life never had any sort of stability in it, to have something that made him remember that there were things in this universe that actually endured through everything was a reminder that life truly was worth living. Gently, the older mech rubbed his servo on Rodimus’ backstrut in a light, soothing motion, patting it fondly.

“How much is it?” Rodimus asked, looking down at the vendor with his smile warm and open.

The organic vendor quoted a price, which Rodimus haggled with over the next few moments, then got his rock at a slightly lower price than was initially given.

“Now I want _you_ to find something that appeals to you, for the display cubby in our room,” the flame-colored mech said, firmly, turning to Megatron with a smile. “And not just datapads full of books, okay?” He added, knowing that was exactly what the former Decepticon Leader would be most likely to do.

“_Must I_? Honestly, Rodimus…………my _only_ hobbies are reading and writing poetry,” the older mech said with a deep sight, as they continued on through the various stalls of the bazaar.

“Come on, just look at things and see if there’s _anything_ you like looking at!” The younger mech said with a tone of complaint in his vocalizer.

Just then, Megatron’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “The thing **_I_** like looking at won’t fit on those shelves,” he responded, his tone very serious as he said it—even though Rodimus could feel a light good humour from his lover’s EM field.

As the meaning of the words sank in, the flame-colored mech’s faceplate flushed a very dark pink and Rodimus hit Megatron’s shoulder repeatedly, about a dozen times, spluttering nonsense about propriety and all of that. However, from Rodimus’ happy feelings in his field, Megatron could tell his younger lover was very much flattered by the subtle compliment.

“Well, perhaps I can find something here that reminds me of you—_that_ will be enough for a display shelf,” the grey-colored mech chuckled warmly. So, the two of them wandered around the eclectic collection of stalls before Megatron finally found something that Rodimus had a hard time believing actually reminded the older mech of **_him_**. So, the former Decepticon had to actually explain it……….. “The subtle complexity of the sculpture,” he said, smiling down at his younger lover.

Rodimus looked down at the object pointed out to him on the table, frowning lightly. It was a small sculpture of some sort. What it _actually looked like_ was a bunch of shiny, silver, little cotter pins all attached together in a weird rectangle-and-sphere shape. There seemed to be no given pattern as to how the pins were all attached to each other, just somehow a bit chaotic—if one were to ask Rodimus of Nyon’s opinion on it, anyways!

But, as long as Megatron was okay with it…………**_that _**was all that mattered, really.

After walking around some more booths and stalls, looking at the wares and holding carefully to the tote bags containing their purchases, the two Cybertronians eventually came upon Minimus Ambus—who was at a stall that contained data-slugs full of native music from various Galactic Alliance planets. Ultra Magnus had elected to go without his armour today while Brainstorm and Ratchet did some maintenance on it—he figured that no one here really knew who he was with or without the Magnus Armour, so it would be all right to take a break from it for a little while.

“Are ya finding anything good, Mags?” Rodimus asked, curiously.

“I believe so,” the small green-and-grey mech responded, glancing up at the flame-colored mech. “This one world, which this booth has several albums for—their _‘classical’_ style has some unique and interesting instruments together,” Minimus added, holding up the data-slug he had in his servo. “It’s really quite fascinating—I’ve not heard the subtle tone and canter of these particular instruments before.”

“Would you recommend it to anyone else who had similar tastes to yours?” Megatron inquired, looking down at the smaller mech.

“I believe that I would,” the small grey-and-green mech chuckled softly.

After saying some polite good-byes to Minimus Ambus, Rodimus and Megatron continued through the various booths and vendors until they came to a wide open area that was clearly meant to be an organic species’ version of a “_food court_”. There were some food and drink vendors nearby and a large group of smaller tables (with chairs) and seating places (for larger species) in a large special area.

“Would you like a pint of water for a system refresh?” Megatron asked of Rodimus, once again resting a servo lightly on his younger lover’s backstrut.

“That’d be pretty nice right now, Megs,” the flame-colored mech responded with a grin. He walked over to a seating area designed for larger members of the Galactic Alliance species, like them. The younger mech sat down and waited patiently, watching Megatron go over to a vendor and purchase two disposable containers of purified water at the size of two pints each. “How’re ya hanging in, Megs?” Rodimus asked, scooting his chair closer to Megatron’s, despite the small café table that separated them.

“This really is not my type of thing to do, but I don’t mind it so much as long as I’m with you,” Megatron responded, smiling warmly at his younger lover and reaching for a servo with one of his own. “However, I do hope you’ll save a little bit of time from our shore leave for a bit of fun in the berthroom,” he added with a wry chuckle.

“Oh, **_you_**!” Rodimus laughed, sipping at his water lightly. “Okay, _yeah_…………we’ll have some time for that. Since we’re on opposite work rotations lately, you’ve had to go without fragging me for a week.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how _horrible_ it is, Rodimus—after all, you’re mine and I want you all the time,” the older mech said with a light and teasing tone in the sound of his vocalizer. Megatron’s EM field rippled with warmth and love, brushing up against his lover’s nearby field. “All joking aside, however—I do miss you and sleeping beside you in our berth. It feels quite lonely without you recharging at my side.”

“Yeah, I _totally_ get that,” Rodimus responded, smiling and squeezing the servo clasping his. “I happen to miss my big ol’ body pillow, too,” he added with a chuckle and brushed his field lovingly against Megatron’s in return. “I guess we may as well go back early, then—so we can take our time to do something slow and enjoyable.”

“You know that I’m all for that,” Megatron chuckled softly, leaning over and planting a light kiss on the top of Rodimus’ helm. He drank the rest of the water in his bottle and stood up, squeezing the flame-colored mech’s yellow servo and tugged lightly to get his lover to finish his own bottle of water and come back to the ship with him as soon as possible.

Rodimus grinned and finished his water, standing up and grabbing the tote bag with his rock in it. He picked up Megatron’s and handed it to the older mech with a grin on his faceplate. They placed the recyclable bottles in the proper disposal container along the exit edge of the food court area and then walked back to the ship’s parking area, servo-clasping-servo. It didn’t take the two of them too long to get back to their habitation suite, but even before Megatron could start anything amorous, Rodimus grabbed the tote bag from his older lover and took the sculpture out and began fiddling with placement on the display shelf area embedded in the wall of the suite. Then he insisted on placing his own rock in a complimentary position on the shelves……moving back to look at the placement a few times and finagling them both to get it to how _he_ wanted it to look.

“Rodimus, you’re not avoiding interfacing with me, are you?” Megatron groaned, wondering why Rodimus was doing a whole bunch of other things that _were not_ moving towards the berth and fun whatsoever.

“_No_…………I’m just………….you know, nervous as always,” Rodimus chuckled, turning to Megatron and poking a few fingers together with anxiety. “I always get into it, but I’m really anxious to start out every single time. Primus……….you’ve really got to be tired of hearing me say these things!” He sighed deeply, staring at the floor space between their frames.

Megatron quickly stepped towards him, placing one servo on a familiar red hip, the other lightly cupping the younger mech’s chin and drawing his optics up to look into the older mech’s own optics. “Have confidence in yourself, Rodimus—_I love you and I treasure you_. Nothing will change that. It doesn’t matter if you’re an expert in interfacing techniques or still a novice—I enjoy merging our frames because you mean everything to me and I’m afraid I feel more like showing it in a physical manner, as opposed to a verbal or emotional one,” the former warlord murmured, lightly planting a kiss on Rodimus’ forehead, then leaned his forehead down to rest against his lover’s with gentleness.

“You’re way too nice to me, Megs,” Rodimus murmured, leaning forwards and snuggling up against his older lover’s chestplate. “_Thanks_. I appreciate you……….._ya know_………..being patient with me.” He rubbed his cheek and nasal ridge against the center of Megatron’s chest and reached his servos around to twine the digits into the tank treads on the grey-colored mech’s back.

“I’d never do this for another individual, except for the mech that I truly love with all of my Spark,” Megatron murmured, lightly kissing the top of Rodimus’ helm and patting the backstrut, lightly caressing the center of the sunbright yellow spoiler. Those fingers embedded deep in his treads were exciting him greatly. “Come on, let me take you to the berth and we’ll work towards our _‘fun’_ then………” he chuckled, scooping the flame-colored mech up into his arms and walked them over to the berth.

Megatron settled Rodimus up on the berth, having him sit up on it. At this particular angle of both their frames, they were almost the same height—with Rodimus’ being just a little taller. That’s what the older mech wanted as he reached up gently and began kissing the flame-colored mech lovingly. The younger mech began to relax as he felt all of the familiarity of his sparkmate around him and let a few hours of loving interfacing happen.

* * * * *

Today was a really great day for Rodimus in the medi-bay—he was actually going to be allowed to assist Velocity with some patients! She’d picked the patients carefully—just ones who were routine checkups or looking in on an older injury and the physical therapy of recovery. So, there would be the time and patience for Rodimus to choose the right materials for the checkups and to assist with the patients. It was going pretty easy, Rodimus didn’t even have to consult his datapad full of notes for the most part—and he’d only hesitated once on getting a wound-absorbing mesh.

The last patient for the day was Hound—who was coming in for some PT over the knee injury he’d gotten a few weeks ago during a prank war.

“Hey Hound, I’ll be back in a moment with your charts—Rodimus is going to test the stress on your knee,” Velocity said cheerfully.

Rodimus got out a pressure plate and braced it firmly in the stand near the wall. “Okay Hound, press your pede on the plate and stretch your leg out entirely, pushing against the plate as hard as you can,” the flame-colored mech said firmly. “If you feel any pain or discomfort, please let me know right away,” he added with a smile.

The old, green-colored Autobot stretched out his leg and pushed his pede hard against the pressure plate. The readout fluxed for a few moments and then set on a steady number. Rodimus wrote it down on the datapad diligently.

“No pain or ache?” Rodimus asked.

“Not so much, really. Old joints like mine have occasional aches and this doesn’t feel any more uncomfortable than that,” Hound responded, smiling up at Rodimus. He was impressed at how well the flame-colored mech was settling into doing things in the medi-bay. “I appreciate you having a chat with Swerve and Anode on their constant outdoing of one another. At least nobody else has been hurt recently.”

“I showed both of them photos of a _very_ mangled knee-joint—not yours actually, because of confidentiality—and explained you’d have PT sessions for like a month because of what happened,” Rodimus said, shaking his head lightly. “I think they realized that they’d actually seriously hurt a person trying to get at each other and decided to scale it back a lot more. I doubt they’ll stop entirely, but I think they’ll be a lot more careful when the potential of innocents in the crossfire happens to be there.”

“It’s better than them not listening to you at all,” Hound sighed softly. “Well, Velocity?” He asked when she came into the exam room.

“It looks like it’s been healing nicely from our last few scans—we’ll take a scan today for First Aid to evaluate and then have you back in for a follow-up next week,” the femme from Caminus said warmly, smiling down at the old Autobot soldier.

Just then the lights dimmed throughout the whole ship and red warning lights pulsed, a red alert even though no alarms were going off. Velocity and Rodimus looked at each other, a bit puzzled. Hound stood up and watched the pulse of the lights carefully.

“I think it means there’s _a fight_ somewhere on the ship,” the Piloting Operations Manager responded, calmly. “Security’s probably been already dispatched, but they want people not to move wherever they’re at on the ship.”

“Perhaps we’d better get out some medical supplies, in case someone’s hurt?” Rodimus asked, looking at Velocity.

“That might be a good idea. Let’s go out to the main stations and make sure they’ve got supplies ready,” Velocity said, nodding calmly. “If you think you’re safe enough to leave, you can—otherwise, you’re welcome to stay here in the exam room until we receive an all-clear.”

Just as Velocity and Rodimus were preparing some beds, Ratchet stomped into the medi-bay and practically tried to push the sliding door shut. As soon as the door was shut he turned to it and snapped out an order to the ship’s computer to seal and lock the medi-bay doors, using his old CMO command code overrides.

“Ratchet, what’s wrong?” Velocity asked, her field suddenly rippling with a little bit of nervousness.

“The whole damned ship has gone _insane_,” the old medic snarled spinning around on the two of them. “**_No!_** Don’t come near me until de-con’s done!” He growled as the beam of light encased his frame and scanned him. “_Nnnngh_. I’m going to attribute this to the fact that I’ve got an immunity to damn near every virus our kind has ever developed as a reason I’m not acting like everyone else………….” he muttered darkly, waiting for the decontamination scan to finish. “Velocity, Rodimus—you both do a de-con as well, even though you’ve been in here all day! The virus has been spreading rapidly over the last few days……….I need to find a way to isolate it to find an anti-virus and Megatron _would’ve_ been the best candidate………….but…………”

“_Megatron_? What’s wrong with him? Is he okay?” Rodimus gasped, no longer able to stand still under the decontamination scan beam.

All of the sudden, crazy laughter erupted from out in the hallway—the voice was someone they **_all_** knew very well………….and that kind of laugh was not something any of them thought to hear from _that particular mech’s_ vocalizer.

“Even First Aid?” Hound murmured, coming out of the patient room, staring at the doorway as a massive thud hit it.

“_Yep_. You know how he is—he got a little too into his work when we were taking a look at Drift and exposed too much of his own system in the scan,” Ratchet groaned. Then he asked Hound to take the decontamination scan as well. “Anyone else in the medi-bay right now?”

Velocity shook her head and stepped out of the decontamination scan beam.

“You said something about Megatron…………._what’s wrong_?” Rodimus asked again, anxiety suffusing his field thickly, fidgeting and itching his arms as the remnants of the scan left a prickly feeing on his derma.

“This virus is stupid, literally—it’s bringing out the most radically opposite emotions out of those who get it,” Ratchet explained. “I locked Megatron in your hab suite, to keep him safe—he’s as scared as a turbofox during a hunt.”

Hound stepped into the decontamination area and waited for the scan to start, watching Rodimus begin to pace anxiously. He smiled a little bit as he watched the younger mech pace like that—the flame-colored mech definitely loved Megatron. And after he’d been chatting with Mirage for a while, some time back, he’d heard just how very protective and fiercely devoted Megatron was to Rodimus as well. It had always been said that “_opposites attract_”—and there were few in this universe that were as opposite as Megatron of Tarn and Rodimus of Nyon!

“I _gotta_ go to Megs, Ratchet………I _can’t_ leave him alone,” Rodimus whined softly. He still paced a rut into the floor around in the medi-bay scan area.

Ratchet and Velocity looked at each other after the old, former CMO cleared Hound of infection. The two of them were clearly using communiques with one another to speak on the issue privately. At that point, Rodimus began to pace even faster, his anxiety rippling out into his field—along with a whole lot of worry for his sparkmate. Their private conversation was done soon enough and the two of them turned to Rodimus and got his attention.

“Rodimus, we need to get some samples of the virus from someone who’s been infected,” Velocity said, very seriously. “You might have the best luck in getting them from Megatron, if he’s as docile as Ratchet says—rather than trying to get samples from anyone else on the crew.”

“What Velocity is saying is that you can check that Megatron’s safe-and-sound, get those samples and then get back here _ASAP_,” Ratchet added, his deep voice just as serious sounding as Velocity’s was. “I’m going to trust the fact that you’re not already infected to mean you have some kind of immunity.”

“It may very well be your freshly activated medical protocols, which are becoming more active to longer you work down here with us,” the teal-and-white femme chuckled, smiling warmly at the flame-colored mech. “Oftentimes the new protocols have stronger immunity than most settled systems do.”

Rodimus shifted on his pedes and stared at the floor, frowning deeply. “I’d rather stay with Megs and protect him,” the younger mech pouted softly.

Ratchet sighed and brought his servos up to clamp them down on Rodimus’ shoulders, on each side of his collar fairing. “I do understand that, kid, and I know your sparkbond is also urging you to do it,” the old Autobot medic murmured. “But listen to me—if we want to help everyone before someone gets very foolishly hurt, we _need_ you to bring those live samples back to us, okay?” He added, keeping his rough old voice as soothing as possible.

The flame-colored mech nodded, a bit embarrassed by his one-track focus on Megatron. Of course, Ratchet was worried about Drift, too, as well as the remainder of the crew. Rodimus needed to set aside his own personal worries about his sparkmate and focus on trying to help everyone. Megatron was infected, too, and whatever cure that the two medics in the room could come up with would help Megatron as well as the crew. So, doing his best in this situation would help his beloved old mech get better as well. The co-captain of the _Lost Light_ incycled and exvented gently a few times, just as Drift had taught him, to regain his focus and calm down a bit.

“_Okay_. How do I get a live sample?” Rodimus asked, softly, looking between the two medics in front of him.

Ratchet removed his servos from Rodimus’ shoulders and coughed politely, even his stoic old faceplate flushed a light pink.

“_Any_ kind of fluid will work, Rodimus—at least that’s what Ratchet wants to say,” Velocity chuckled lightly, even as both older Autobots in the room facepalmed themselves and began to mutter in low tones. She gave Rodimus three small vials. “Get three samples if you can, that way we can test against a range of viral types.”

“Got it,” Rodimus responded with a grin. “Now for the really good question—how do I get to our hab suite without being totally mobbed?”

Hound chuckled and raised his servo. “_The vents_. Skids messed around in them often enough, so if someone like him can get through, then you can, too,” the Piloting Operations Manager said simply. He walked over to one of the medi-bay computers. “I don’t have access to the ship’s blueprints program, but you do,” he added, sitting down and opening up a drive search window, gazing back at Rodimus.

Rodimus leaned over the green-colored mech’s shoulder, then he reached a servo out to quickly type in his command override code. The system searched for the requested files and in moments a map display of the ship’s systems came up on the screen.

“All right, here’s the medi-bay,” Hound said, pressing a digit onto the location and highlighting it on the screen.

“Okay, our hab suite is here,” Rodimus responded, pressing a digit onto the map location to highlight it.

The two of them then leaned back away from the screen and looked at the map carefully. Hound made sure to put the vent system in a glowing green color so they could see where the vents were easily. Rodimus started to draw a little bit in the air to try to plot a course as Hound tried to picture it visually.

“I can’t find a route that will get me all the way there—I’m going to have to drop into the corridor and sprint for it,” Rodimus sighed, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chestplate.

“The CMO override code for the lock is three-seven-five-zero-two-three,” Ratchet said, sharply. “_Don’t forget it and be fast_. Everyone’s riled up and acting like lunatics. It hasn’t gotten violent yet, but I saw a few hallway orgies occurring.”

“I think some people will have some serious regrets once this is over and done with,” Velocity sighed, shaking her head lightly.

* * * * *

Strangely enough, Rodimus didn’t see anyone when he dropped into the corridor and dashed to the room he shared with Megatron. He quickly put in the CMO override code to get in and got in there, securing the door after he was safe inside. Now might come the really difficult part—it all depended on how frightened Megatron was in his viral-infected state, it may not be easy to get the older mech’s help……….or even get near him!

“Megs……..hey, you in here, big guy?” The flame-colored mech called softly, after looking around and seeing what he could assess of the situation. He turned on the lights to a low mode in the room, that was when he noticed the couch was lifted up onto its side and propped up against a corner of the room. A large blanket was draped over it to make a little hideaway.

The co-captain of the _Lost Light_ slowly crept over to the makeshift “_secret hideout_” and knelt on the floor by one side of it, pulling aside the blanket a little to peer into the darkness of the hidden area. Softly glowing, old crimson optics met his, then looked away quickly.

“Hi there,” Rodimus said, softly, a warm smile on his lips. “Mind if I crawl in and share your nest?” He chuckled, letting fondness tone his voice and ripple out into his EM field.

Megatron made an unintelligible little sound and his field flowed full of fright. Rodimus let his field slowly push against his older lover’s, letting it pulse serenely with gentleness and love. He crawled in and snuggled up against the grey-colored mech, keeping his field warm and consistent. In a few moments, the large old frame relaxed and an arm went around Rodimus with tenderness.

“_Sorry_………I can’t seem to………calm down………..” Megatron’s deep voice responded softly, as lips gently pressed against his younger lover’s helm.

“It’s okay, we’re gonna fix it,” Rodimus murmured, hugging his older lover. He wondered if, even in Megatron’s very jittery state, he could get the grey-colored mech to interface with him? Normally, it didn’t take much persuading to get Megatron horny and eager for some fragging………but _now_? “I need your help, but we’re gonna have **_fun_** doing it. Ratchet and Velocity need some live samples, so guess what we get to do, big guy?” The flame-colored mech chuckled, shifting his body so that he and his lover were facing one another.

“_Ummm_………how……….how are you not infected?” Megatron whispered, hesitantly placing his servos on Rodimus’ familiar hips.

“Well, Velocity said that it might be my medical protocols coming to life, you know………..something like that, how they’re stronger when they’re new and not-as-used,” Rodimus murmured, leaning his forehead against Megatron’s with warmth and love. “Do you really think it’s okay if I start leaning more towards my medical programming than my warrior training, Megatron?” He asked, quietly, rubbing his nasal ridge against his older lover’s very gently.

“The kindness you’ve found………..is very endearing,” Megatron answered, very softly. The fear had nearly dissipated from his field, but he was still very quiet and docile. “I would love you, no matter what you choose……….” he whispered as he felt his own frame begin to heat and thrum with arousal and longing.

“I’m so glad,” Rodimus whispered, his field radiating with joy. He leaned forward and kissed Megatron heatedly, inviting a sweet and sloppy kiss, full of love and desire.

They kissed heavily, heatedly, for quite some time. Rodimus gently slid a servo down to Megatron’s groinplating and caressed the area to entice his lover’s spike panel to open. The older, grey-colored mech responded with a soft moan. Gentle Megatron was a true treasure to Rodimus…………and he felt even more protective of his older lover than he had during the older mech’s heat-cycle a little while back.

When the large black spike pressurized to full against his palm, the flame-colored mech caressed the length of it and teased the tips of his digits in the ridges gently. Then, with his free servo, he brought out the three vials and balanced them carefully on his hip plating. It might be a little tricky, but Rodimus would do it. He managed to get one vial quite neatly filled with pre-transfluid, but the second one that got filled with a good overload’s gush of transfluid was a little bit sloppier.

“I need one more vial of fluid,” Rodimus murmured, holding up the remaining empty vial. “We’ll frag after that. Can you, _uh_………spit in this for me?” He chuckled as he pulled a cloth out of subspace and cleaned off the exterior of the second, sealed vial.

“Sure,” Megatron said softly, smiling very shyly at Rodimus and taking the empty vial from him. He placed some oral fluids into the vial and sealed it firmly, giving it back to his younger lover.

Rodimus placed all three vials back into his subspace compartment. He rubbed his nasal ridge against Megatron’s, cuddling his frame close. “Hey, big guy—can you finger me a bit, to open me up some more? I mean, we both know that my frame can be a little difficult and we haven’t done this position very often…….” he trailed off, softly, glancing away a bit with embarrassment.

“_Mmmm_,” the older mech murmured, nuzzling Rodimus back and slid one of his black servos over the slender red him, curving it down along the front side of the flame-colored mech’s groinpaneling. “_Ummm_…….is it the whole crew……….all infected?” He asked, quietly, rubbing a few digits along the damp valve lips of his younger lover in a soothing manner.

“_Almost_ everyone. Except me, Ratchet, Hound and Velocity,” Rodimus answered, then he gave a low little moan as the tips of Megatron’s fingers brushed lightly over his anterior node. “_Mmmmm……**um**_, Hound said he hasn’t been social lately and he’s been on minimal staff shifts…….”

“_Ah_. Presence and contact,” Megatron whispered softly. Deep inside of him, he felt like withdrawing into himself and pushing Rodimus away, but his own frame was begging him to frag his younger lover. In his head, he understood that it was this strange virus that was making him shy and fearful—and he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t beat it. “What if………..by doing _this_………….I infect you?” He said, a bit of sadness in his voice.

“Well, then Ratchet will get a good test subject **_if_** they can manage to restrain me,” Rodimus laughed softly. He rocked his hips gently against Megatron’s moving digits inside of him.

“I think………..it would be impossible………..my wild and beautiful sparkmate,” Megatron chuckled fondly.

“You’re………**_nnngh_**……….always so sweet! Virus-infected or not,” Rodimus said, a deep groan escaping his lips as he arched his back and anticipated soon having his lover’s spike inside of him, rather than mere fingers. They both surrendered to the joy and pleasure of loving each other.

* * * * *

“He’s actually _so super-cute_ right now,” Rodimus said to Hound, a light chuckle in his voice. The two non-qualified, non-medics were sitting around in the main area of the medi-bay, using the computer to watch the ship’s security monitors carefully.

“That is probably _the one word_ I’d never use to describe Megatron,” Hound responded with a wry little smile. “It looks like most things really have devolved into orgies—has the crew really been all that prudish?” He groaned, reaching up and rubbing his temples lightly.

“_Jeeze_, I’d never think so, judging by how often people flirt with each other around here,” Rodimus chortled. He pointed to a couple of specific little screens from the monitors. “Primus, I’ve got some really good blackmail stuff here, though!” He laughed.

“Ultra Magnus is going around throwing people into hab suites, so he’s not changed overly much. Though if I’m reading his lips right, he’s probably using more swear words than there are in the _entire universe’s_ swear word dictionary!” Hound chuckled warmly, pointing to a specific screen where the mech in his armour was going around, picking people up out of the corridors and throwing them into the nearest rooms, code-locking them with his own security codes.

“It might be to our benefit if he clears the corridors, though,” the flame-colored mech murmured, standing up straight and folding his arms over his chest. “First Aid, though……..he’s roaming about like a sparkling given his first taste of Premium Grade.”

“I imagine it’s because he’s never had time to actually be young,” the Piloting Operations Manager responded, looking up at Rodimus and nodding. “I heard he was plucked up by Medi-Command soon after he began walking. He was barely out of his birth field.”

“_That early_? Ratchet said most medics are chosen after they’ve grown into their full frame, but well before their first century,” Rodimus murmured softly, rubbing his chin in thought.

“He had the strongest field of his entire birth area,” Hound said, softly. “So, he’s been a medic pretty much all his life. I think that’s why he became such a Wreckers fanmech, it was a life he would never have the chance to experience.”

“I wish I knew people better,” the flame-colored mech sighed softly. “Megs does. Mags does………Ratchet _definitely_ does……….”

“Your self-imposed isolation kind of prevented you from getting to know people better, Rodimus,” Ratchet said as he and Velocity came back into the main room from the lab. “We’ve got a couple of anti-viral strains in the works, but now we’re going to need a test subject.”

Everyone stood around and looked at each other with concern quite obvious on their faceplates. This part would also be rather extraordinarily difficult. Megatron would really have been the most ideal test subject, but he was far too big and bulky to get through the vents as Rodimus had done. And……….in the revved up state that everyone else was in, it would be far too difficult to navigate the corridors with a very fear-filled Megatron. They could run into any of the mass orgies, some roughhousers or………

“_Ultra Magnus_,” Hound suddenly said, snapping the digits of his right servo. “He may be in an agitated state, but somehow he’s still trying to keep the crew safe by clearing the corridors. He might be somewhat more reasonable than anyone else.”

“Okay, _that_ could work. But how would we get him to come here and play experimental medical trial roleplay?” Rodimus asked, a deep groan in his voice.

“We need proper bait,” Ratchet said, firmly, looking all around them.

That was when everyone suddenly turned to face Rodimus. He stared back at them all, wondering just what they were all thinking by calling him “_bait_”?!


	2. Virus Cleared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A daring plan...……….and a whole lot of [probably unnecessary] drama! Welcome to just another day on the Lost Light, folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Velocity will never let First Aid live this down--you'll see what I mean. XD

_ Chapter Two: Virus Cleared _

_‘Bait. **Me**. What the hell are they all thinking?’_ Rodimus thought with annoyance as he crawled through the vents.

_ “Honestly, Rodimus, **you** have the best chance of drawing Magnus here,” Velocity said, chuckling as she organized equipment on a table._

_ “Why **me**, though? Magnus would be happy to discipline **anybody**!” The flame-colored mech complained sharply._

_ “You’re fast and you’re sneaky,” Ratchet responded with a grunt as he gazed at his computer terminal._

_ “You stole his ship back on Earth and teased him mercilessly when the **Lost Light** launched,” Hound added with a shrug and a light chuckle._

_ “From what I hear, why **wouldn’t **Magnus love to have the opportunity to discipline you?” Velocity teased warmly, grinning over at Rodimus._

_‘**Tch**. Seriously,’_ Rodimus thought as he stopped near a corridor junction. He could hear sounds of complaint and then he heard Ultra Magnus’ very familiar voice quoting laws and rules………..and using more swear words than the flame-colored mech ever thought that the stoic older mech even knew. _‘Wow, Mags………gonna need to clean your oral cavity out with a thorough wash cycle!’_ The flame-colored mech laughed to himself.

Then Rodimus heard a lot more than complaining and swearing, he heard yelling and crying and a whole lot of thuds—then the corridor went almost silent, except for a bunch of low muttering.

_‘That’s my cue!’_ The younger mech chuckled to himself, popping open the hatch of the vent and dropping into the corridor junction. He stretched his limbs and waited for Ultra Magnus to come around the corner.

It was a very classic, rather comedic, moment. Ultra Magnus’ optics saw Rodimus when he turned the corner and the bulky mech stopped dead on his pedes, staring at the flame-colored mech in surprise. Rodimus chuckled, grinned at his old friend and waved a servo in greeting,

“Hey, Mags…………what’s up?” The co-captain of the Lost Light said cheerfully, grinning at the law-loving mech with fondness.

It went straight from comedy to action-drama in two seconds!

Ultra Magnus growled Rodimus’ designation in a low and threatening tone, right before he started stomping towards the flame-colored mech—then sprinting—then barreling right down upon the younger mech with ferocity.

_‘Holy Primus, I’m screwed now!’_ Rodimus yelled to himself, spinning on a pede and starting to run. It was a good thing he was a whole lot faster than the mech in armour—Ultra Magnus may be powerful in the expanded frame, but he was nowhere near Rodimus’ level of maneuverability and speed.

Rodimus’ optics scanned the corridors as he ran down them, so he knew which directions to take. He skidded around a sharper turn and came to a dead end, where the only thing that was there happened to be a utility storage room. The flame-colored mech facepalmed himself and then the pounding pedesteps and violent swearing got a whole lot closer. He looked around and looked up and saw a series of bars in the ceiling of the corridor.

They were small and narrow, basically servo-grip size and Rodimus thought………..that maybe they were for hanging a curtain or a tarp in the corridor. If the utility room here was a cleaning closet, then there could be a hanging tarp in there to protect sides of the corridor from cleaning agents that might be used only for the floor, not walls. That had to be it, the small bars looked as if they could shift across the hallway—to block one side of the corridor and then the other.

_‘Let’s hope that after all the years that he’s known me, I can **still** surprise Magnus with a few maneuvers. I hope the bars will hold my weight—I’ll need to be **fast**,’_ Rodimus thought, giving one last visual appraisal of the corridor, right before the red-white-blue mech skidded around the corner and blocked him in.

“Why must you frustrate me so, Rodimus? I’m _only_ trying to ensure that you and the crew are properly disciplined and obey all the rules,” Ultra Magnus snapped, incycling and exventing a little harder than normal.

“Oh, gosh, you know me, Mags! Me and rules really don’t have a good working relationship!” Rodimus laughed softly, spreading his servos in a shrug.

“I’ll discipline you _properly_ now, you bratling,” the old soldier grunted, walking slowly down the corridor.

_‘Whoa. Oh, whoa……..**he’s**……….’_ Rodimus thought to himself with great surprise, just as he felt particular strong emotions flowing through Ultra Magnus’ EM field.

One of those emotions was _absolute lust_.

_‘I’m in total and serious trouble,’_ the flame-colored mech said to himself, watching Ultra Magnus carefully and keeping an optic on his route of escape.

“Um, hey, Mags………..you know, I just _love_ teasing you and all,” Rodimus stammered. “It’s ‘cause I like you and stuff. I always admired you and all that…………” he said, smiling warmly and openly at the advancing mech. He kept his field super-tight to his frame—he wasn’t going to do _anything _that might provoke the older mech unnecessarily.

“Oh, **_I_** like you, too, Rodimus—I would just like you better if you would follow the rules a bit closer,” Ultra Magnus said, his deep voice with a soothing tone in it.

_That_ was all an act, his EM field was still flaring wildly with lust and violent desires.

_‘This **isn’t **going to work. Even if I get him to follow me back to the medi-bay, he’ll **kill** the four of us if he thinks we’re any kind of threat—and poking at him with instruments and needles isn’t exactly friendly!’_ Rodimus thought, desperately. _‘I’ve **gotta** get back to the medi-bay and we’ll have to look at getting someone else to experiment on……….**maybe**…………?’_ He trailed off inside his own head.

It was too late, even as he started to plan to get past Ultra Magnus and get back to the medi-bay, the bulkier mech was upon him and had him slammed into the door of the utility room, a large servo pressing hard against Rodimus’ neck-cabling and hauling him a couple feet off of the floor.

_‘Oh hell, I’m **dead**……….and probably **fragged** as well,’_ Rodimus thought, trying to focus on keeping his consciousness as life-fluids began to get cut off from his brain module. _‘Sorry, everyone—I’m clearly no match for Ultra Magnus. Oh, Megs……..**I’m so sorry**………..’_

All of the sudden, a paralyzing jolt shot through Ultra Magnus’ systems and the Magnus Armour collapsed all around Minimus Ambus, as the smaller grey-and-green mech fell to the floor surrounded by the pieces of the armour, completely unconscious.

Rodimus _also_ collapsed to the ground, coughing and trying to get his life-fluids pumping back to his brain module.

“_Hey, **pssst**, Rodimus_!” A familiar voice said, giggling a little bit. “_That _won’t last long and he’ll be super-angry when he’s conscious again, let’s get out of here!”

Rodimus looked down and saw First Aid’s head poking out of a small panel to the side of the utility room door.

“_Hey, I was gonna look for you_!” Rodimus said, cheerfully. He felt no threat from First Aid’s field. It really, _actually_, felt like a **_sparkling’s_** field. New, open and honest………and First Aid’s field was filled with a desire for fun and adventure. He stood up as First Aid crawled out of the panel opening. “I’ve got a _secret base_ we can hide at and play some more! But we have to take a super-secret path to get to it? Wanna come to my secret base?” The flame-colored mech chuckled, grinning down at the small medic.

“_Ooooh! Secret base! Yeah, I wanna!_” First Aid gushed, excitedly.

So, Rodimus led First Aid down the corridor and around the corner, looking up for the vent panel that he knew should be there. He pulled the panel off and set it right inside of the vent tunnel. Then he climbed up into it and reached down to haul First Aid up, too.

“Put the panel back on the vent opening, okay? I don’t want anyone else to figure how I get to my secret base,” the flame-colored mech said to the little medic cheerfully.

“_Okay_!” First Aid giggled, putting the panel back on the opening and then he began to crawl behind Rodimus and they eventually wound up back in the medi-bay.

“**_OH!_** Medi-bay! This is a _great _secret base!” First Aid gushed, turning about on his pedes and taking it all in.

“Are you okay, Rodimus?” Hound asked, as he and the two medics ran into the operating room where the vent back to medi-bay led.

“Let me look at your neck,” Velocity said with worry, walking over to him.

“First Aid?” Ratchet gasped. “Are you okay, kid?” He asked, looking down at the young CMO with concern.

“_Mmmm-hmmm_! I’ve been having fun and adventures,” First Aid gushed excitedly. “But Ultra Magnus is getting super-duper **_scary_**,” the little medic mumbled, poking his forefingers together with anxiety.

Rodimus recognized it as the gesture he often used when he was severely anxious.

“We’re gonna fix that, but we need _your_ help, First Aid,” Rodimus said, grinning down at the little medic fondly. “This is the _dramatic part_ of our fun adventure. Can’t have fun without a little drama, right?” He chuckled.

“_Nope_. What next?” First Aid responded cheerfully, his field still so very open and innocent.

“Primus, he’s _really _adorable,” Velocity chuckled to Hound.

“Well, the bold and brave doctors are making a _super-cure_ for the scary virus infecting the intrepid ship crew,” Rodimus said, making sure to keep the whole event sounding like a big game for a sparkling to play with his friends.

“_Oooooh! **I’m** a medic! **Me**!_” First Aid cried, jumping up and down with a servo waving excitedly in the air.

“I’m going to _totally die_ from his adorableness,” Velocity giggled.

“Okay, how _do_ we make a super-cure?” Rodimus continued, grinning down at First Aid as they walked out to the main area of the medi-bay together.

“_Ummmm_. Well, we need **_samples_**. Then we can make an anti-virus, but you don’t know if it works unless you can test it,” First Aid said, drawing on his knowledge to play the drama part of their little adventure—sounding just like the CMO that he _actually_ was. “We need a _test subject_, though……..where do we get one of those, nurse?” He asked, looking up at Rodimus, hopefully.

_‘Well, I suppose with the amount of training I’ve had, I really am the equivalent of a **nurse**,’_ Rodimus thought. The flame-colored mech reached down and put his servos lightly on First Aid’s shoulders. “I’m afraid, doctor, that _you’ve_ shown signs of the virus. The assistants and I have been working on anti-viral strains using the notes you left us, from _before _you got infected. You’ll have to test the anti-viral strains on yourself……….” he said, very seriously.

“_Oooooooh, **nice** plot twist_,” the little medic said in awe. “_Nurse! Assistants!_ Prepare the variations of the anti-viral strains for testing right away!” First Aid ordered, looking over at Velocity, Hound and Ratchet.

Ratchet grumbled as he moved, but Velocity lightly slapped his shoulder and whispered to just go along with it—at least they got their test subject.

“Nurse, you’re going to have to secure me down—there are possibilities that the anti-viral strains might make me violent or suddenly uncooperative,” First Aid said to Rodimus, laying back on the examination slab.

Rodimus nodded and gently secured the straps around the CMO’s arms and legs—_very gently_, to show that they were playing and he also didn’t want to make the virus inside of First Aid turn him violent right now. He played along with the plot they’d on-the-fly concocted, since First Aid really wanted to play like a sparkling.

“All right, _ummmmmm_………assistants, start administering the anti-viral strains,” First Aid ordered. “Lessee………_ummm_, wait about fifteen minutes between each administration of the strains, just to see whether they’re working or not.” Then a deeply puzzled look crossed the little medic’s faceplate. He frowned softly. “_Ummm, Rodimus_!” He whispered, wanting the flame-colored mech to lean down to speak with him more quietly. “How will we know which anti-virus is the one that’s supposed to work, you know? Do we just decide this now, like say _the third one_………or………?” He trailed off softly, looking hopefully right at Rodimus’ faceplate.

“I’ll cue you in which one, okay? Let’s just have fun and let the plot unfold,” Rodimus chuckled softly. “This is like _totally fun_, right?” He said with a big grin.

“_Totally_!” First Aid giggled happily.

* * * * *

It didn’t take long to find the right anti-viral strain………and First Aid had a lot of fun pretending. By the time the testing was complete, he was tired out from all his tearing about the ship like a sparkling all day long, plus the anti-viral strain was bringing his systems back to normal, so he fell into a deep recharge. When they hit upon the right strain, Ratchet and Velocity immediately started going to work on mass producing the strain, but they didn’t get very far until the much larger problem came to their doorstep.

**_Literally_**.

An utterly infuriated Ultra Magnus (back in his armour, no less) who was probably ready to _murder someone_.

“_Oh hell and Pit_,” Ratchet whispered desperately as he heard the swearing and slamming at the medi-bay doors. “Velocity, Hound—we’ve **_got_** to get to the isolation rooms. We’ve only got two of them, so we’ll have to crowd into them. Take First Aid _with you_ and work on trying to get more of this anti-vi produced, I’ll take Rodimus _with me_—grab as much equipment as you can!”

“Ratchet, do you think the isolation rooms can hold up to Ultra Magnus’ strength?” Velocity gasped, starting to grab armloads of supplies and piled them onto a cart, even as the older medic began to do the same. Hound picked up the unconscious First Aid and they all ran back to the isolation rooms at the very back of the medi-bay area.

“They’re designed to survive the destruction of the ship. They’re _the safest place_ we can hide. Try to be quiet, maybe Magnus won’t find us back there—since the isolation rooms dampen our EM fields!” Ratchet snapped back. “At least, let’s **_hope _**that’s what will happen,” he grunted softly, grabbing Rodimus’ arm and his cart and went into the isolation room on the right.

Velocity, Hound and First Aid went into the one on the left and both medics used their medical override codes to seal the doors from anyone trying to open them in a conventional manner. Even Ultra Magnus’ security codes _could not override_ a medical command code.

“How did we ever get into **_this_** mess?” Rodimus groaned, leaning into the wall of the isolation room in the medi-bay.

“We went on some damned shore leave, that’s how,” Ratchet grunted, folding his arms over his chest and stared at the door of the isolation room. He glanced around—there were limited tools for him to work with in here to try and fix the mess with the few vials of trial anti-viral strains in them. Now would be the time to see just how much medical use Rodimus could be……..!

“I’m _never_ gonna see Megs again, it’s so unfair—it’s like the universe is trying to do everything it can to _stop me from being happy_,” the flame-colored mech mumbled, burying his faceplate in his arms, that were braced upon his knees. Then he began crying, softly, and Ratchet could feel the small ripples of pain and loss in the younger mech’s field.

“Up you go, kid, _come on_,” the old medic grunted, reaching down and pulling the flame-colored mech to his pedes. “I need your help in reproducing more of this stuff. We’re going to be severely limited on what Velocity and I can concoct up, but if we can get Ultra Magnus cured, we stand a better chance of living through this and getting out into the lab to make a lot more.”

“I’m so useless. Why’d you take **_me_**? You and Velocity should’ve isolated yourselves together and………” Rodimus muttered, darkly, staring at the floor between them.

Ratchet grumbled and reached over, grabbing the flame-colored mech’s chin roughly. “Shut up, Rodimus, and _concentrate_. If we can’t get out of this, we _can’t_ save Megatron—and you want to save Megatron, don’t you?” He asked, sharply. “Look, with Velocity and I working on it separately, we can produce a lot more of it—we’re in two rooms, with two sets of supplies that we grabbed. If Velocity and I had to be isolated together, we wouldn’t have been able to grab as many of the supplies as we did and we’d wind up with a lot less produced,” he explained, lowering his voice to a tone with more kindness in it than grumpiness right now.

“_Oh_. Okay,” Rodimus murmured, looking into the old medic’s faded blue optics. “What……..what do you want _me_ to do?” He asked.

All of the sudden they could both hear Ultra Magnus in the medi-bay, prowling around, voice loud and demanding and cussing up a storm. Both Ratchet and Rodimus flinched.

“_It’ll hold_. And Magnus is going to reach a point where he’s out of fuel and charge with all his rampaging,” Ratchet said firmly.

“Okay. _Um_………what about Drift?” Rodimus asked and noticed Ratchet’s shoulders slump with a little bit of sadness.

“I caught onto the infection fairly quickly and slapped Drift with an inhibitor on his chestplate—First Aid dashed off before I could get him, too. Then I sealed our quarters with the CMO command codes,” Ratchet said, shaking his head lightly. “The inhibitor would’ve worn off by now, but he should be locked in the room—though……….it’ll be hard to tell what **_his _**buried personality is.”

They both went quiet, afraid to accept the fact that the buried personality may well be “_Deadlock_”. If that were what happened to Drift, if he fell back to his murderous Decepticon ways—it might be nearly impossible to get close to **_him_** and administer the anti-virus. Deadlock was **_not_** to be messed with.

_::Is there a way we can send the anti-virus through the ship’s ventilation systems?::_ Rodimus sent, using communiques when he heard Ultra Magnus’s terrifying roaring echoing fairly close by.

_::We’d need to get to the engine room for that. The anti-virus would have to be dumped fully into the environmental recycling system,::_ Ratchet responded in a communique back to him.

_::Then if we can get Ultra Magnus fixed………..**I** can get to the engine room to do that,::_ the flame-colored mech responded, watching Ratchet mix chemicals in rows of vials.

_::Do you want to risk it?::_ The former CMO asked, glancing at the flame-colored mech, curiously.

_::Yeah. For Megatron. And Drift,:: _he responded, nodding vigorously. Then Rodimus drew with a forefinger on the table. _::**Ummm**. I think I can get to Magnus. I know he tried to kill me before, but……….**ummmm**. Well, I felt **lust** in his field, too, and…………I think, maybe I can try **that** tactic instead.::_

Ratchet looked over at the younger mech and gave a soft little exvent of a sigh. He reached a servo over and rubbed the flame-colored mech’s helm gently.

_::I’m not going to force you to do that. But if you **can **do it and keep yourself safe, promise me that you won’t let Ultra Magnus hurt you?::_ Ratchet asked softly.

_::I wanna save Megs,::_ Rodimus sent quietly. _::I’ll go beyond my own means to save him,::_ he added, drawing on the table some more with his finger.

Ratchet chuckled softly. It was good that Rodimus had found someone very stable to fall in love with and rely upon. Then the two worked in complete silence, not even any communiques, for the next five minutes—flinching every time it sounded like Ultra Magnus was close to the isolation rooms. To Rodimus, it was unusual to see Ratchet flinch at _anything_, so it meant he was extremely worried about Ultra Magnus’ violent condition.

“Okay,” Ratchet whispered very softly. “Getting him to take it _orally_ is the best solution, but if you can find a way to get it into his system in _any way_……….” the old medic trailed off. “He should be winding down soon. If you can get him to swallow _any_ of it, it should work through his system fast and he might fall into recharge for a bit, like First Aid had.”

“_Um_, even doing it through the Magnus Armour, it’ll reach his core Minimus Ambus systems?” Rodimus asked, quietly.

“_Yes_. When he’s connected to the armour, he’s _fully integrated in every way_—that I promise you,” the old Autobot medic chuckled, a wry grin creeping across his faceplate.

“**_Every_** way, hunh?” The flame-colored mech laughed softly. “Is it okay if **_I _**swallow it?”

“What are you……….?” Ratchet hissed, sharply. “It _shouldn’t_ bother you in the least, of course, but…….”

“Megs may be a fantastic kisser, but I’m definitely no slouch—wish me luck, Ratchet,” Rodimus answered with a flirty tilt of his head. “Seal the door the instant I’m outside.”

It was _dangerous_, but Rodimus knew he could do it. He had dumb, ridiculous luck that let him _survive everything_—because he had spent a good portion of his life walking a very suicidal edge and never got out of life _that easily_. Rodimus peered outside, carefully, looking to see how close Ultra Magnus was—he _wasn’t_ in the hall leading back to the isolation rooms, but the flame-colored mech could hear the ship’s second elsewhere in the medi-bay. He dashed outside and heard Ratchet lock the door quickly.

The flame-colored mech incycled a deep breath and slowly walked towards the main area of the medi-bay. He peered around the corner and saw the tall, red-blue-white colored mech standing in the middle of the main area, his arms folded across his chest and he was grumbling in a low tone with annoyance and swear words. Rodimus looked at the vial in his servo, poured the contents into his mouth and sauntered out into the room with his best seductive motions and lust rippling through his field.

Ultra Magnus turned to him and looked at him with some sort of surprise, until his field flowed out from him with desire pulsing hard through it. He stepped towards the flame-colored mech, grabbed him roughly and kissed him hard.

If Rodimus had learned anything more from Megatron about _this_—he’d learned how to kiss with **_lust_**, as well as love. _And_……….maybe his kiss with Ultra Magnus had a little of _both_. He really **_did_** like Ultra Magnus a lot—it was why he always teased him so much. But now, the love was more a love in the strain of friendship than for passion.

Oddly, Ultra Magnus didn’t seem to notice the extra fluids in Rodimus’ mouth, but he was very intense in grabbing the littler mech’s hips, which made Rodimus whimper softly.

“Mags, _that hurts_……..you’re too strong, dial it back, okay?” The flame-colored mech murmured, pulling away, licking his lips and looking up into the Autobot soldier’s bright blue optic glass.

Ultra Magnus looked down at him, puzzled, like he just lost his train of thought—then he let go of Rodimus’ hips and rubbed his own temples soothingly. “_Ugh_. I feel exhausted. We’ll continue this later, Rodimus,” he grunted, walking over to the nearest medical berth and laid out, falling into recharge pretty quickly.

_::Ratchet, he’s out completely—systems in full recharge,::_ Rodimus sent to the old Autobot medic. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as Ratchet came out and looked around, Velocity right behind him.

“_Rodimus, your hip-plating……..!_” Velocity cried, looking at the large, servo-shaped dents in the flame-colored mech’s hip-plating.

“I’m fine. Ratchet and I have a plan. I’m going to need all the anti-viral stuff and I’ll make one more trip through the vents and we can finally label this bad story _‘the end’_,” Rodimus chuckled, softly.

* * * * *

“………….and so, _that’s_ how it ended,” Rodimus explained to the command staff at an immediate meeting, once everyone had recovered.

Ultra Magnus had his face buried in his servos. Most of the command staff had brightly-colored faceplating. Megatron facepalmed himself. Drift bonked his head down on the meeting room’s table. Hound and Ratchet looked at each other and shrugged, while First Aid rubbed his temples.

“I was acting……….._like a child_?” The little medic groaned softly. “_I’m so embarrassed_!” He cried softly.

“I suppose the most important thing was—_nobody was seriously hurt_,” Ratchet said, seriously. “Oddly, we owe Ultra Magnus for that. He may have been a bit rough throwing everyone into their room, but it kept people from devolving into violence.”

“I can’t believe all the things I said and did……….._and_…………**_just kill me now_**,” Ultra Magnus groaned deeply.

“We’re going to need a few months to recover from this,” Megatron sighed, softly.

“_No shore leave!_” Ratchet and Rodimus both said at the same time, glaring over at the co-captain of the _Lost Light_.

“No, definitely not after _that_—and not for some time, yet. We’ll need to revamp our decontamination procedures,” Megatron responded, nodding and putting it on an agenda for the command staff to discuss and approve at the next meeting. “We’ve become a bit too lax on these things.”

“Well, why don’t we go to minimal staff at all shifts for awhile and change our travel pace to the slowest speeds?” Hound said, looking over at Megatron and then at Rodimus.

“It sounds like a plan,” Rodimus responded. “I want my body pillow back for a little while before we have separate shifts again.”

“_Tch_,” Ratchet muttered. “Personally, I’m not reporting to the medi-bay for a week or two—I need to recover from this. My old joints and circuits can’t take this kind of stress anymore.”

“I need to be off for a while,” Ultra Magnus mumbled, his faceplate still buried in his servos.

“Of course, Ultra Magnus, take all the time you need to recover,” the former Decepticon Leader responded. “Rodimus, I’m going to have to pull you from medi-bay duties for a little while, for bridge shifts. Drift, I’m going to pull you for bridge shifts as well,” he said firmly.

“Yeah, all right,” Drift mumbled, grinding his forehead on the table.

“For the three of us, we’ll have longer shifts with less staff to divide up the command duties for. Hound, will you take care of pilot scheduling for me?” Megatron said, firmly, looking over at the Piloting Operations Manager.

“No problem. Honestly, I don’t think _I’m_ going to sleep more than minimal recharge cycles any time soon after all this,” the old Autobot soldier groaned, rubbing his head lightly.

“All other departments, assign your staff even amounts of on-shift duties,” the grey-colored mech commanded, gently. “Until Ultra Magnus is ready to recover his administration duties and coordinate with the departments again—we’ll need every head of department to do their own staff scheduling,” he added, firmly.

Soon enough, the meeting was dismissed and everybody began trudging out. Ultra Magnus still had his faceplate buried in his servos. Rodimus frowned and walked over to his friend, rubbing his back gently.

“_Hey_, Mags, you okay?” The flame-colored mech asked softly.

“**_How_**…….how can you forgive me for what happened. **_I_**………I am a terrible mech,” the old soldier responded, his voice muffled by his servos.

“Everyone was really quite a mess, Magnus. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Rodimus said, kindly, putting warmth in his field as he rubbed his friend’s back with gentleness. “Besides, it was a nice kiss and I was able to get the dents out of my hip-plating just fine.”

Ultra Magnus moaned deeply with regret and shame rippling through his EM field.

“Ultra Magnus, please do not worry about it—the way the virus affected everyone was really……._extensive_,” Megatron responded, getting up and walking over to where Ultra Magnus was sitting. He reached out and patted the mech’s shoulders consolingly. “Let’s just all take some time to recover our wits and senses and get past the embarrassment of this whole mess, all right?”

“_Yeah_,” Rodimus agreed, nodding and hugging Megatron tightly.

“**_Sure_**,” Ultra Magnus responded, his voice still muffled by his servos.

Rodimus rubbed his friend’s back again and hoped that they would all be able to get past this weirdness very soon. It was weird and ridiculous………..and probably could **_only_** have happened on the _Lost Light_.

**Author's Note:**

> Next I'll finish "One Wish", my other WIP that was halfway done and we'll be heading off into freshly written territory from now on! I'm on vacation this week, so I hope to get "One Wish" posted soon as well. :)


End file.
